


Grass Stains

by watername



Series: Dye Hard [2]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jiyong showed up with a splash of green in his hair, Seunghyun had taken one look and, for reasons that remained indecipherable forever, said decisively, "Blowjobs." (this is how Daesung takes advantage of a long van ride, a lollipop, and assumptions)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pitch

**Author's Note:**

> The next installation of the arbitrary hair dye rules that secretly govern BigBang's sexual escapades.

There is a very, very good reason why no one even colors near green anymore, and that reason is Daesung - but no one ever really blames Daesung. They blame either Jiyong or Seunghyun. Uncharacteristically, Jiyong will honorably shoulder the blame until Seunghyun begins his unstoppable Why We Shouldn't Trust Jiyong with Hair Dye tirade, subsection Bangs.

Once the blonde rule was in place, it very easily became a persistent in-joke - what does pink mean? blue? orange? And when Jiyong refused to be reasonable, and started doing half in half, highlights, streaks, and any combination of those under the sun, the in-joke only became more hilarious. Trying to apply logic to the follicular insanity, at that point, became an ungodly mixture of foreplay and hobby.

Blue tips -  _just the tip, hyung?_  Seungri said, laughing as he splayed out on the couch, naked, and then whining when Jiyong hit him.

A streak of pink -  _smear it over my lips,_ Jiyong suggested, drawing his mouth over Youngbae's cock as the other groaned and strained not to thrust into his mouth.

And when Jiyong showed up with a splash of green, Seunghyun had taken one look and, for reasons that remained indecipherable forever, said decisively, "Blowjobs." It could have possible that Seunghyun was just really craving a blowjob, but he denied it strenuously...but he definitely didn't reject either when Jiyong rolled his eyes and reached for his zipper.

 

(And that, Jiyong would crow, huddled protectively over his hair products, was damning evidence re: Seunghyun and how it's his fault no one gets to have green hair anymore.

 

Seunghyun, in response, would retort that only Jiyong was suffering from that loss. Youngbae and Seungri would make agreeing faces behind Jiyong's back.

 

And Daesung would smile, very sweetly, and say absolutely nothing.)

 

So, if a little green meant you had exclusive blowjob rights, then a lot of green - like, a _fuckton_ of green - sensibly meant that you could only give blowjobs, to be administered whenever and to whoever you wanted. And only Jiyong was crazy ( _trendsetting_ , he would interject from behind aggressively crossed arms) to do something like that.

Right?

* * *

The ride to the SBS soundstage was so quiet that the crinkle as he unwrapped the lollipop filled the space entirely. Daesung very deliberately didn't look at anyone as he brought the ball of the candy to his lower lip and let it rest there, occasionally rolling it left and right until every groove of his lip was sticky sweet.

It turned out that his stylist noona was one of the tight-lipped people in their entourage, because as soon as he had clambered into the van, no one said much of anything. He was pretty sure all four of them had swallowed their tongues simultaneously, tighter choreography than they had ever managed. He made a mental note to send her some flowers later because this was going to be _fun_. 

Somehow the rest of the group had gotten the idea that Daesung wasn't interested in participating - he had gone blonde, and technically adhered to the rules, but it hadn't changed anything about how he operated. It had gotten Seunghyun to corner him in a bathroom - which was nice, admittedly - but he never voiced too strongly objections, enthusiasms, etc. unlike the others. He essentially flew under the radar, sexually, to the rest of them by virtue of his gentle, quiet nature. He would have been insulted if it hadn't resulted in a golden opportunity like this.

Someone behind him was dangerously close to choking as he flicked out his tongue to let the cherry taste settle on it. It was sweet, but not quite as satisfying as seeing Jiyong's throat bob up and down out of the corner of his vision, and then eventually finding the traffic inhumanely interesting. Out of curiosity, Daesung turned around and found all of his members' similarly afflicted with a sudden fixation for mundane traffic. He decided to be generous.

"Hyung," he said to Seunghyun, who was looking intently at a passing furniture store. He dug into his pockets and held out another candy. "Do you want one?"

Seunghyun's eyes flickered, panicked, from Daesung, to the furniture store (now forlornly in the distance), down to his lap, then to the other members, then to Daesung again, and then at the proffered candy. It finally landed on the lollipop's stick, which was making slow lazy circles in the air as Daesung's tongue skillfully led the candy in a unrushed tour of his mouth.

The whole van came to a sudden halt and Daesung had his own personal moment of panic that he had somehow disgruntled the driver, but that was taken over by another feeling as the lollipop adhered to the rules of physics and lunged for the back of his mouth.

As he inadvertently deep-throated the lollipop, and pushed it back up, without a sign of choking or sputtering or any sort of discomfort at all, he was pretty sure he saw Youngbae crossing himself frantically. 

Seunghyun, meanwhile, still had yet to break eye contact with the potent threesome of the candy being offered to him, the stick protruding from between Daesung's lips, and Daesung's mouth itself.

In the absence of any sort of movement from their oldest member, Seungri leaned forward, across Youngbae's lap, and took the candy of Daesung's hand with his mouth; his lips just grazed against his skin. Looking suddenly confident and pleased, he leaned back and winked at Daesung, even as Seunghyun, Youngbae, and Jiyong reached out to deliver a perfectly synchronized slap somewhere against his person. 

"What?" Seungri protested, trying to massage all of his assaulted spots. "He knows what he's doing! He was _offering_!"

Daesung smiled around the lollipop when they all looked at him, and then promptly erupted into a loud four-way argument.


	2. The Bids

It was a discordant hubbub that, as far as Daesung could make out, mostly consisted of innuendos ranging widely in quality. He found himself not really listening to their verbal resumes for the highly coveted “Member Most Likely to Be Sucked Off in the Next 20 Minutes” position and instead focused on…what could be generously called “additional indicators”.

Youngbae  wasn’t being particularly forceful or loud – not that surprising – but there was a faint sheen on his upper lip even though the van was aggressively air-conditioned in deference to Seunghyun’s congenital long-sleeves. The sun hit the window just right and Daesung caught how blown-up his pupils were. He laid his mental bets – less than a minute to get him hard enough, so there’d be no need to use his hands to hold him steady – his hands would be slick, nervously clasped behind Daesung’s head at the base of his neck. He would strain to control himself and be mindful of Daesung’s position, groaning when lips encircled him at the base and cursing softly as Daesung’s tongue licked, long and slow, along his length as he pulled back instead of swallowing him down. Youngbae would want to chase after it, starting so close to the finish line, but the real goal here – the _character-building_ – was to make Youngbae last. The man had the physical endurance to make a treadmill cry for mercy, it was only just for that to apply sexually as well.

Daesung would be doing so for the improvement of mankind, really.

The knuckles on his hands would be white from straining not to given in and thrust into the waiting wetness of Daesung’s lips. He would look down at Daesung and lick his lips out of desire.

He would, in all likelihood, give himself a stupendous leg cramp in the process of restraining himself.

Daesung held back a soft snort, thrown out of his budding fantasy by the harsh truth that combining prolonged muscle tension and an impending stage wasn’t the most capital of ideas. He couldn’t very well make Youngbae _hobble_.

So….today, at least, it would have to be a lightning strike of a blowjob, wherever he fell in the queue. He resolved to improve mankind at a later point.

Off to the next point, who had ceased his earlier onslaught of terrible single entendres and was now trying to position himself against the window seductively. To his credit, Seungri was doing a great job of ignoring the seatbelt fastener digging into his lower back.  

Overall, though, the picture he offered was ridiculously over the top as he tried to cling to the momentum he had snatched earlier, being the first to realize what Daesung was offering. He was ducking his head and looking at him from beneath lowered eyelashes and pouting his lips, which was really only inspiring Daesung to wonder if he had any lip balm on him. He also wondered how long it would take him to complete his steady re-angling of his body to make his crotch 100% available and pointed directly at him. He was supplementing every few seconds with a small shimmy of his hips.

Surprisingly to even himself, Daesung felt tempted. Thus was the power of Seungri, he supposed. Even in the face of other considerations, there was an itch to reach out and cup him through his jeans, applying just enough pressure to get his eyes rolling back and completely stifle his ability to form words, leaving him only able to utter moans, groans, and – most appealing of all – whines for more. He could pull out those high-pitched, needy noises before they even reached the soundstage, and his hot and wet breath against the head of his cock would be too much for Seungri to endure. He'd probably thrust into his mouth and earn himself a slap for misbehaving, but that would only encourage him. Daesung could dig his nails into the sides of Seungri's thighs and hold him fast and tight as he tried to squirm in his grip. It would be Exhibit A in why you shouldn't squirm too much when someone's going down on you for any normal person - Daesung's teeth would scrape against Seungri's cock - but for Seungri it would be little more than flirting with danger and that would end up setting him off. Coming would give him the leverage to buck against Daesung's grip and it would slip out of his mouth and shoot a line against Daesung's cheekbone. 

So....messy, but rewarding. Certainly something Daesung was interested in experiencing, but he was a nice guy to his noonas, who, knowingly or unknowingly, would end up 1-2 degrees of separation away from Seungri's cum if he did it after make-up. For their sake then, Seungri was pushed to the front of the line, but Daesung turned away from him in the van (and promptly ignored the sulk that crossed his face) and instead looked at Jiyong, seated next to him, against the opposite window.

 Jiyong, whose expression since Daesung climbed into the van had ranged from wary (at the hair) to jealous (of the hair) to intrigued (at the hair's implications), had also been looking at Seungri (business as usual), so Daesung took the opportunity to study their leader. He doubted he could really bring anything new to the table, so it could be a challenge. On the other hand...Daesung pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek, creating a bulge. Jiyong didn't move. Daesung stuck out his tongue and lightly flicked it, as though he were tasting the air. Jiyong didn't look at him. Daesung stuck out his lower lip in a pout, and Jiyong both looked at him _and_ shifted in his seat. And there it was, just like that. Everyone liked Daesung's lips. That was the solid foundation upon which the blowjob house was being built. But Jiyong apparently really,  _really_ liked his lips, to the point where he was ignoring the other copious suggestions. 

Jiyong wouldn't look away from him, not for a second, instead keeping his eyes trained down so he couldn't miss a second of how Daesung's lips would part fractionally open. He would reach out slim fingers to feel them, gently, memorizing the softness of them against the pad of his thumb. Daesung wouldn't bother to do anything; Jiyong would manage just fine on his own. He would hook his index finger between Daesung's lips and teeth and run it along until it was wet with saliva. He would have to pause, there, too fixated on the feel of him around his fingers to move on. Then, Daesung would have intervene, would unbutton his pants, pull down his zipper (a tough measure, since his cock would already be hard and leaking), and then lean forward to press a kiss against the head through the thin material. He wouldn't have to do much more than kiss - against the line of his thigh against his pelvis, just above the small thatch of hair. He would pull out his cock only to kiss along its length, a dry, warm pressure applied slowly to every inch that only served to undo Jiyong more. And he wanted to, even sitting in the van, minutes away from the harried work that always came before a performance. He wanted to take his time and screw the rest of the world.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

But the source of all his attention wouldn't have that, and that was probably for the best. Disbanding over a sex scandal wasn't on anyone's to-do list. 

Last, not the least...possibly still reminiscing about the furniture store based on the look on his face...was Seunghyun. Seunghyun, who was at fault for the pair of them being noticeably late while in New York. Seunghyun, who was simultaneously thick as a brick and brilliant as a diamond, and who would be so grateful to have Daesung at his knees in front of him he probably wouldn't even believe it was happening until he had already came. But it would be happening, and Seunghyun would have a dazed, thrilled expression until it was finally wiped off with an endearing half-choke that signalled his orgasm. He would grab at Daesung's hair for dear life; he would sink down to his knees and drip onto the floor just to be able to kiss Daesung's dirty mouth.

Seunghyun would have to be last, then, because nothing could follow him. 

The van shuddered to a stop.

"Oh, look," Daesung said brightly. "We're here."

There were frantic hand motions to hide various degrees of erection as their manager threw open the door. Daesung jumped out.

"Well," the manager demanded. "Are the rest of you coming?"

"Not yet," Seungri moaned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Daesung's predictions be accurate? Will the rest of BigBang be able to enter the building while hunched over? Will the author ever write actual sex? All these questions WILL be answered!


	3. Daesung/Seungri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is his right as the most verdant member of Big Bang to get a cock in his mouth whenever he wants, damnit. (Daesung/Seungri section)

It goes off the rails almost immediately.

There was, in fact, a plan at a certain point in time, and it was not solely comprised of "be a tease, suck four cocks in a to-be-determined order". It was _efficient_ and  _space-saving_ and  _multi-purpose_. He would determine the first person, make the rest an audience, and therein be multi-tasking both an actual blowjob and foreplay to blowjobs. There would have been direct suffering (the blowjobee) and immediately adjacent suffering (the blowjobees-to-be). It also would have been in good lighting, with a sufficiently soft carpet because he'd rather not fuck his knees up.

His current situation is badly lit (dimly fluorescent and only occasionally flashing bright enough to see, with a loose wire that makes for a disturbingly active buzzing noise), badly floored (there were chips in the concrete, and, oh yeah, it was _concrete_ , the least forgiving of all flooring choices), and badly scented (bleach and must, both of which he's confident in saying are not aphrodisiacs to anyone). On no sane planet would this supply closet play a part in his plans, but here Daesung was - his nose buried in the soft (because **of course**  he used conditioner) curls of Seungri's pubic hair, fingers curled into his hips as he held him flush against a work table. He considers how, exactly, it got to this point.

The van escapade was an assured success as a prelude. The afflicted four had ducked into the SBS building using a variety of tactics (all of which he'd have find some fan-taken photos to reminisce over), demonstrating handily how different the same goal (hiding a hard-on) could be executed: from Jiyong violently shoving his hands in his pants and pressing them forward until the fabric wasn't even touching his crotch anymore, to Youngbae taking off his jacket to tie it around his waist, to Seunghyun finally making good use of all the extra layers he toted around, wrapping them around his body protectively. Seungri went to ludicrous route and just skipped the entire distance from the van to the door, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

The actual transition from prelude to the main event was where it went awry. Jung Gyu Woon (the poor soul, Daesung commends him to the Lord even as his tongue laps at the underside of Seungri's cock) happened to be in the lobby as they arrived, stopping to exchange chitchat and bow politely, only for his latter to take him into a direct, soul-destroying line of sight where he could spot Seunghyun's distorted zipperline. Seunghyun, noticing, shuffled to stand behind Youngbae and pressed a closed fist in desperation against his zipper, but too late to spare Gyu Woon. The other man was tactful, greeting everyone else in turn, but was clearly already dead inside. He saw Youngbae flexing his hand, in obvious preparation of warding off his own traitorous blood flow.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted their manager shooting a suspicious look at Jiyong, who was whispering supportively to the mutually blue-balled duo.

Daesung was  _not_ going to let the blowjob plan of the century fall to pieces over a few awkward questions, so he reached out to tug on the manager's shirt and, in his most innocent, "who me? I would never" voice, asked whether or not they could head to their fitting room for a bit of quiet. 

Everyone else would have been suspected of fishiness, but for Daesung the manager only nodded his assent and made their excuses to a still blank-eyed and psyche-ruined Gyu Woon. Their group moved on without further issue, and he walked with a pleased step, still turning over his order options in his head. Jiyong first? He felt that would have the most impact on the rest of the group as observers, and it would be a good warm-up, easy kisses laid across his skin and his length without other considerations. On the other hand, Jiyong got leader privileges on nearly everything, and he would likely enjoy thoroughly the sight of Daesung going down on one of the others, especially if he had a good angle and saw how his lips would stretch, part, and get bruised. It was a happy, warm, anticipatory train of thought that got shoved off the tracks immediately when Seungri escaped from Jiyong's clasp and slithered up to his side. 

"You should pick me first," he said, without preamble. "It was meant to be, since I picked up on what you wanted first. You know? Hyung?" _Hyung?_ Daesung smiled. There was a positive sign that Seungri really was in dire straits. "Hyung, c'mon," the last word accompanied with an unsubtle brush of his hips against Daesung's thigh as they squeezed by a passing cart loaded down with equipment.

"I ate a lot of fruit earlier."

It's a non-sequitur for exactly three seconds, before it isn't.

Lee Seunghyun, singer, dancer, idol, maknae, connoisseur of semen flavors.

It's ballsy. It's lewd. It is exactly the right thing to flip the switch in Daesung's mind from "tease" to "perpetrator".

Because the others have only been tormented with this for an hour, tops. Daesung has been tormented by his own planning for  _months_ , refusing to use it as masturbatory fuel in order to make the actual execution that much better. He's earned this. It is his right as the most verdant member of Big Bang to get a cock in his mouth whenever he wants, damnit.

So he lets himself slow down until he's at the back of the group. They pass an ajar door, dark and unoccupied, and he closes his hand around Seungri's wrist and pulls him inside in a sharp, hungry motion. There's a moment before the door closes entirely, when there's a sliver of light slashing across Seungri's skin, and Daesung sees a bead of sweat pop on his brow and how his pupils blow wide and huge.

_Perfect._

He presses a quick kiss to his lips before dropping to his knees, where Seungri's hands collide with his face in an over-eager attempt to get unzipped. He catches the right one, runs his fingers over his palm and slowly, deliberately pushes it back until he finds a convenient shelf to hold it against - and maybe this closet will have its own charms, because there is something to be said about pushing overheated skin against cold metal. His left hand moves back to grip onto the edge of the table. Seungri bucks beneath Daesung's hold, just as he knew he would, squirming as though there were an arcane method to unzip and unbutton your own pants through sheer pelvis manipulation.

(To be fair, if anyone knew how to do that, it was Seungri.)

He didn't, though, instead issuing a groan of frustration at his un-blown state. 

"Hold tight," Daesung says as he releases his hand. He neatly and firmly pulls down the zipper of the jeans, undoes the fly, and curls his fingers around the belt loops before tugging down. He feels Seungri move to stand on his tiptoes, leaning forward slightly to allow him to push it down. He's delighted to find a small circle of dampness gracing Seungri's boxers, but pulls them down without comment. 

"Come on, come on, come on," Seungri whispers, with an edge of neediness in his voice that is doing way too much to Daesung right now, and he plunges forward in a smooth motion, engulfing the length of his cock without a second thought. Ironically, it's the other man who chokes, knees buckling as his right hand flails uncertainly for either _less_  or _more_. Daesung shuffles forward on his knees, thankful for the trend of pre-distressed jeans so that any scuff marks will just look fashionable. Above him the light flashes bright, once, and then sizzles into darkness.

There's a soft place (his mouth) and a hard place (a table that did not sign up for this) and Seungri is caught between the two. He moves his hands up the length of his legs and wraps his hands around Seungri's bare thighs. They're _trembling_ beneath his palms, like he's about to jump out of his skin. Daesung murmurs in curiosity and pulls back a bit, just to see if Seungri will chase after him, and he does, because no one in the right mind would willingly say goodbye to the skilled wetness of his tongue, his mouth, his lips. 

He captures the tip of his cock just as it presses against his mouth and barely parts his lips wide enough to breathe hot and wet on the slit. He sucks and flicks his tongue, light and deft (and torturous, judging by how the pitch of barely contained moans have just jumped an octave). The muscles beneath his hands are straining and he is thankful for occasionally trying to keep up with Youngbae in the gym, that he's managing to hold Seungri back and instead of him thrusting into his mouth frenetically, it's slow, languorous, how he draws his lips up and down and tastes every inch of him without rushing. It seems with each pass the younger man gets harder, contrary to all laws of anatomy, and Daesung almost feels bad for him and loosens his grip just a bit, only to be knocked on his ass as Seungri thrusts forward, knees knocking into Daesung's chest. 

"Fuck, sorry, Daesung," Seungri says, breathless.

Daesung doesn't say anything, just re-gathers himself and wipes the slick that's gathered around his lips.

He considers the benefits of their location. Seungri can't see more than just the barest outline of his form, much less the dangerous light in his eyes. 

"Daesung- _hyung_ ," he corrects, throwing himself forward and digging his nails into the hollow of Seungri's hipbones, ignoring his cry of pain, mixed with arousal and surprise. He throws aside the patient, meticulous pace from before and bumps it up several hundred notches, sucking down the slick seeping out like it's honeyed tea for a sore throat. His cheeks are hollowing out, tightening around his length impressively. He grabs for Seungri's hand and presses it just beneath the line of his cheekbone where it satisfyingly shakes at finding the unmistakeable indentation of his own cock. Daesung rolls his eyes up and even in the dim light flowing from beneath the door he can see how Seungri's own lips are parted in a silent plea for mercy. It's a sight that Daesung's going to treasure for the rest of his life, but it's only the first of four.

There are minuscule moments where Seungri manages to pull just a bit away before Daesung brings him back. He makes only the smallest of attempts at making sure his teeth don't scrape too hard against the skin, because he's suddenly, completely sure in his earlier imagination: that Seungri would love the harshness, the implicit threat. As though he could hear what Daesung was thinking, Seungri jerks against the table and slips down. Daesung's teeth scrape the full, hard length of his cock and that's the end of the line. Cum shoots into his mouth for a brief, salty moment before Seungri's cock falls out completely, dragging off of Daesung's lower lip and chin and leaving them smeared with white.

Someone makes the ill-advised decision to knock on the door, and Seungri is, post-orgasm, loose-limbed and his eyes are rolled back, so Daesung grabs at his underwear and pants and frantically pulls them up, but it's too late. The someone is making the even worse mistake of opening the door. Daesung snaps the waistband of Seungri's boxers over his dick just as the other man finally realizes the danger they're in and shoves at Daesung ungratefully, sending him sprawling on his ass once again and looking at the door, anxiety roiling in his stomach.

The outline of terrible hair at the door belongs to Youngbae, and Daesung breathes a sigh of relief, but only for a moment.

Youngbae is  _short,_  no matter what PR is put out there otherwise, and people could look right over his godawful hair and spy Seungri, who is already debauched enough in the public view that his generally lazy, sated pose couldn't be mistaken for anything but post-sex, or, worse, Daesung himself, who frantically licks his lips clean and wipes his chin (unsuccessfully, judging by the look on Youngbae's face).

Why, Daesung pleads to the universe, couldn't it have been Seunghyun, who would have at least been tall in his gaping.

"Are you next?" he finally asks, authority only slightly undercut by Seungri helpfully dabbing at a missed spot on his chin with his thumb. 

"Um," Youngbae responds. 

 


	4. Daesung/Youngbae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not leaking for him, yet, but Youngbae has his hands on Daesung's shoulders, and his grip tightens painfully when he leans forward to guide him between his lips.
> 
> Daesung/Youngbae, with a bonus disgruntled Seungri.

 

 Youngbae is a bit thick in two ways, and it's entirely possible Daesung is going to get a headache from both in quick succession. 

The more immediately concern type of thickness is that of his skull, which held the mouth that chose to utter "Um," instead of any of the more reasonable reactions to Daesung offering to go down on them - "yes", "yes, please", "holy shit, yes", or even a dumbstruck-but-positively-toned grunt of agreement. The skull could have even done the simple motion of up and down, but, no. The skull remained thick. Youngbae stayed standing in the doorway, light pouring in, with nothing to contribute to the conversation but "Um."

It might not have been so bad if his secondary thickness weren't rapidly gaining in prominence. Even with his eyes adjusting from the light, Daesung can see the swell beneath his pants, and he can't just shove him out of the closet like that. Earlier in the lobby they had each other to either console each other or hide behind. Daesung couldn't leave Youngbae out there, adrift with nothing but his dick to hold onto. He's not cruel. Seungri catches his eye, and they have an efficient-but-silent planning session. They both lunge towards Youngbae at the same time: Seungri throws his body flat against the wall beside the door and scrabbles for the doorknob before slamming it shut. Youngbae can't even really protest to that, because of Daesung's part of the job: towing him forward by the dick, which is slightly rude but has a 100% success rate of getting someone to do what you want.

Youngbae squawks in protest, but Daesung is committed to his plan and further committed to not getting caught, so he slaps his hand over Youngbae's mouth and stands up. He smiles, only a little placatingly, because as squawky as Youngbae may have gotten, the sturdiness of his cock has a different agenda.

"Hyung," he says, quietly, firmly, because he is Kang Daesung, Bestower of Blowjobs, with no pretenders to the throne. "Do you  _not_ want a blowjob right now? If I let go of your mouth, you have to actually say yes or no to this. No 'um'. Nod if you understand."

Youngbae, because he is a sensible sort of person, nods. Daesung lets go and watches how he licks at his lips, before closing the distance between them and kissing him softly, intent on relaxing him a little bit. Tension is only helpful to a certain degree. Youngbae loosens beneath him, and Daesung makes a note that, once this is all over with, he could definitely pursue this further. When they're not under a severe time crunch and only one cock in. Youngbae is  _nice_ , soft and sweet, parting his lips submissively when Daesung increases the pressure. His hands eventually settle on Daesung's sides and slide down until they're at his hipbones, and his fingers draw little circles in his skin. Daesung pulls back and waits expectantly.

"Yes," Youngbae says, eyes half-closed. "Please."

 _That's_ more reasonable, and Daesung's eyes crinkle up as he smiles in satisfaction. It falls sharply off his face as he spots Seungri opening the door a half-inch, peering out for an opportune time to leave.

"Sorry," he apologizes to Youngbae, who looks like he's just been led to water and then had a muzzle slapped over his mouth. He reaches around him and tugs Seungri away from the door, hissing. "What are you doing?"

"I have to leave at some point! Don't you think three missing is a little suspicious?" the maknae hisses back. 

He has a point, but Daesung has already had his plan majestically fucked up. He's a little grumpy about losing the opportunity to have someone be watching him. It's not like he's being unreasonable - he just wants someone's mouth watering as they watch his bruised lips wrap around someone else's cock. Maybe even if they've been worn out just minutes before, they'll be stirred back up by the view and take themselves in hand, hissing a little at the sensitivity of their over-stimulated cock.

...Seungri is looking at him like he's waiting for him to say something. Daesung shakes away the mental picture. 

"Just...," he struggles a little bit to smooth out the roughness of his own voice. "Give me a couple minutes. OK? Youngbae?"

He twists around to see Youngbae, who looks slightly pouty about the whole situation.

"How long have you been gone?" Daesung asks.

He pouts, pouts again, and then sighs, since he's already doomed. "About five minutes."

Daesung, satisfied, spins back and closes the door shut. He surveys the area and meanders for a bit, putting together the pieces.

"Okay," he says, finally. He finds Seungri's shoulders and guides him so that he's standing on the far side of the closet, facing the door and the small amount of light coming in around the edges. He then goes back to Youngbae and navigates him as well until he's satisfied with their positioning.

"This seems important," Seungri says, flat, and Daesung reaches over to flick him on the forehead, satisfied when he lets out a small startled noise.

"It is," he says to Youngbae, who looks askance. He smiles and whispers confidentially, "You're going to like this, and he won't. Promise."

That makes the older man grin. Daesung kisses him again, because he wants to, and fiddles deftly with his zipper. He slides his hand down and wraps it around his length, rubbing it until it's once again a hard weight against his palm. Youngbae takes a shuddering breath. Daesung shushes him as he kisses him deeper, squeezing his hip with his other hand and pulling him forward into a thrust. Youngbae lets out a groan into Daesung's mouth, and he swallows it, feels its warmth all the way down to his toes. 

Distantly, he hears Seungri say, "Fuck."

He shoves down Youngbae's jeans and boxers, freeing his cock. It's thick where Seungri's was long, and Daesung wants to have further empirical comparisons  _now_ , so he tears himself away from Youngbae's earnest mouth and kneels onto the ground. He's not leaking for him, _yet_ , but Youngbae has his hands on Daesung's shoulders, and his grip tightens painfully when he leans forward to guide him between his lips. 

Youngbae is painfully rigid in his mouth as Daesung plunges forward, but he isn't moving, isn't saying anything. If it weren't for the white-knuckled hold that's going to leave bruises for the next few days, he'd suspect Youngbae had already passed out. Daesung backs off, just an inch, and moves forward again - back and forward, minute little sways meant to accustom him to the rhythm and feel of him. He consciously relaxes his lips so the pressure against his cock is lesser, to let him know that he can take it if -  _when_ \- he fucks his mouth. Youngbae will fuck his mouth, leave him bruised and messily slick. It's Daesung's campaign promise to himself.

He moves his own hands comfortingly up and down Youngbae's bare legs, enjoying the friction it creates. He is so, so still, like he's afraid he'll break Daesung if he moves. He rolls his eyes up and digs his nails into his skin so that the other man looks down at him. Making sure he holds his eye contact, he grips his hips tight and pulls him forward sharply so his cock slides down the back of his throat without any resistance. Youngbae's hands release from his shoulders like they've been shocked and move up to his hair, stroking and petting him with sweat-slick fingers. Daesung lets his eyelids flutter shut and swallows him down once more, inviting Youngbae with a hand-graved invitation to kindly go fuck his throat raw.  

The resistance crumbles. Youngbae thrusts into his mouth with earnest, and Seungri in the background lets out a second hearty, "Fuck," accompanied with the miscellaneous noises of surprise-your-hyungs-are-exhibitionists masturbation. 

Daesung hums in pleasure as each thrust of Youngbae's hips becomes sharper, harder, as he becomes more acclimated to Daesung's talented mouth. His fingers twist into the green strands of his hair, pulling on occasion. Daesung's hands remain on his hips but they don't have to prompt him any more, instead they serve more to steady him as Youngbae rocks them back and forth in perfect synch. The roughness against his lips is slowly, surely numbing them, and he knows that saliva is gathering at the corners of his mouth and will undoubtedly spill onto his chin, mixing with the leftover smear of Seungri's come from earlier. 

Youngbae's thrusts grow more frenetic, ungraceful and jerky, in Daesung's mouth and he knows it's imminent. He swallows down once, twice, three times more, and Youngbae finishes, his breathing gone staccato. His come settles at the back of Daesung's mouth, and he lets it sit there before swishing it around his mouth. It's salty and thick, and he looks up to see Youngbae watching the bob of his throat as he swallows it. He sits back on his hands and basks in a job well done as Youngbae lets out a series of shallow breaths. 

"Seungri," Daesung says because he sees the younger man furiously working at his own cock. "How are you doing over there?"

"Hyung," he says, pathetically, a galaxy of begging in one word as he bends over. 

Daesung grins up at Youngbae, who seems to have finally caught his breath. 

"Told you he wouldn't," he says. 

Youngbae looks a little uncertain, a little flushed, at the combined sight of Daesung, confident, lips red and plump, and content to let their maknae stew in his own self-imposed penis hell. Daesung sees his own fingers flex, like he's working out some leftover tension. He tilts his head and calls over to put an end to this before it delays them any more:

"Seungri, if you finish up now you're going to be in some trouble when it's Jiyong's turn. And Seunghyun's?"

Seungri groans in agony, and Youngbae looks freshly gobsmacked. Daesung stands up, stretches until his fingers are close to the ceiling. He pulls his clothes back together, and wipes the back of his hand across his lips. He walks over to Seungri and bats his hands away from his abused cock before putting it away for him. He buttons his pants back up and straightens his clothes, before turning back and doing the same to Youngbae. He pats him on the cheek and pecks him on the lips before opening up the door and ducking into the hallway. He bows respectfully at the people he passes and savors the lingering taste of semen in his mouth as they smile at him politely.

Two down, two to go.


	5. Daesung/Jiyong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some would call Daesung cock-hungry, if they knew how he was looking at Jiyong right now, mere minutes after swallowing both Youngbae and Seungri. Daesung believes firmly that the proper retort to this is, "What's wrong with that?" (Daesung/Jiyong)

When Daesung gets to make-up, the coordi-noonas tut at him for his lateness and ask where Seungri and Youngbae are. Somehow, miraculously, a noncommittal, vaguely regretful noise comes from his mouth instead of maniacal laughter. He assesses the presences in the room: various noonas, staff, and Seunghyun on the couch, fixated on his phone, long legs crossed protectively.

Daesung smiles fondly at the precaution, but he's made up his mind and Seunghyun is spared - for about 15 minutes. In the short walk from the close, he's made the executive oral decision that their leader will be next.

The only problem is that Jiyong is _G-Dragon, ooh, ahhh, etc._ , and the closer they get to stage, the more likely it is for him to get called away for this and that. Daesung does not appreciate distractions that aren't him, so the sooner the blowjob train leaves the station, the better. He will not be thwarted.

He settles pseudo-casually into the chair next to where Jiyong's stuff is and grabs a tissue, wiping at his face for the sake of the unsuspecting noona who's threateningly wielding a hairbrush and some esoteric instruments he still can't name, not even five years in. He breathes in deep and closes his eyes as she begins dusting the brush over his forehead. It's a good opportunity to re-center himself and prepare. The warmth, both physically and mentally, from his earlier successes is still fluttering frantically, needily under his skin, but it needs to shut the fuck up. The last thing Daesung needs right now is his own orgasm as a distraction from getting to Jiyong and Seunghyun.

(To be honest, Daesung had been so consumed - so to speak - from tending to Youngbae and Seungri that he could have come twice over with only a little extra stimulation, but that wasn't really the goal here.)

As helpful as it is, no amount of re-centering would be relevant if Jiyong wasn't actually present. Daesung may be (extremely) talented, but he's not exactly practiced at intra-room blowjobs.

For anyone else, 10 minutes of no Jiyong right before a scheduled stage would be cause for worry, and by Daesung's measure, it's been 5 minutes. He's feeling a strange mix comprised of concern, arousal, and gratification. Jiyong's not really - read: the exact opposite of - the type of person to shy away from sexual encounters. He wonders if maybe their beloved leader couldn't quite keep it in his pants and is off somewhere, thwarting into a tissue.

The door creaks open, and Daesung's heart gives a little jump before he sees Youngbae, still slightly flushed, slink in, followed by Seungri. Seungri's pants are wrinkled from where he had pulled them down so forcefully, and he's not meeting Daesung's eyes. Daesung can practically hear the wheels turning in Seunghyun's head for a few seconds before there's a low, stifled noise of realization.

Jiyong is a little quicker on the uptake than Seunghyun for these kinds of things. He had to realize what happened to Youngbae and Seungri.

The logical conclusion from all this is that Jiyong is teasing him, which is...ill-advised. But Daesung will bite. Maybe even literally.

His neck is being assaulted with a make-up brush - and what is there to say about the idol life except that apparently the back of his neck is very important, cosmetically speaking - so he pulls out his phone and texts a quick _hi :)_ to Jiyong's number.

And just like that, the phone betrays its owner's presence with a tinny rendition of "Look at Me, Gwisoon" that gets hastily cut off, but not before Daesung is able to realize it's coming from just outside the entrance to the room. Daesung tries very hard to hide his smile, because Jiyong is terrible at hiding. Or just very good at making himself available. It doesn't really matter. Either way, Daesung gets what he wants.

He clears his throat politely and tilts his head back.

"Noona, I'm sorry, but I need to use the restroom," he catches her eyes in the mirror and smiles apologetically.

She sighs and sets down her brush.

"Fine, fine. But don't get lost like those two," she stabs her finger, accusatory, at Youngbae and Seungri, and Daesung has known no greater struggle than keeping a straight face at their dual expressions of abashed and personally offended.

"Of course not," he says, as he gets up. "I'll be back soon."

His fingers close around a tube loosely rolling around the surface of the table just before he steps away. He rubs it with his thumb as he steps out into the hall, completely unsurprised to spy Jiyong peeking out from the far door, apparently operating under the delusion that you could be stealthy with bright pink and black hair.

He thinks this has gone on enough: if Jiyong wants to play, he has to realize that he gets to be the toy. The doorway he peeked out from is a bathroom, and Daesung's been on his knees in a supply closet twice today. He has nothing to fear from a tile floor and fluorescent lighting. He opens up the door quietly and sees a flash of skin before the bathroom stall swings shut.

Daesung breathes in, sharp, once and locks the door behind him. He calls out, "I know you're in here."

Silence, but just to be certain, he kneels down and, thankfully, notes that the only occupant of the stalls is whoever is wearing Jiyong's atrociously expensive shoes, which is most likely...Jiyong.

(This is not because no one else can afford Jiyong's shoes. This is because his shoes are of a frequently questionable nature, ranging wildly from 'classy' to 'an affront to humanity'. Today's picks are the latter.)

Daesung straightens back up and leans forward to examine himself in the mirror. He moves the stray hairs out of his face before pulling out the tube of lip gloss and pressing it decisively against his lips, noting how it makes them gleam thick and plump in the mirror. He's pretty certain that Jiyong's watched this part of the make-up process multiple times over, and his gaze lingers just a little too long. Jiyong is not a subtle creature, and how many times has he been asked which member's body part he envies, and how many times has Daesung considered validating his envy?

A lot, and Daesung pops his lips, satisfied with his application.

"Jiyong," he says, calm, self-assured. "You can come out now."

There's Silence - then the lauded follow-up, Scuffling Noises - and finally the conclusion to the trilogy, Door Slowly Opening.

When Jiyong rounds the corner and spies Daesung leaning against the wall, arms crossed, gaze locked on him, his lips shiny and slick, he actually stumbles a little and grabs at the sink to catch himself.

"Get up there," Daesung says, and even he's impressed with how calm he's being. He should be at least a little preoccupied with how long they've been gone, but he's distracted: with how Jiyong shifts his weight and, nervously, tentatively, slides until he's sitting on the counter, his legs swinging back and forth. He's distracted with how this new angle makes the swell of his cock obvious.

(Some would call Daesung cock-hungry, if they knew how he was looking at Jiyong right now, mere minutes after swallowing both Youngbae and Seungri. Daesung believes firmly that the proper retort to this is, "What's wrong with that?")

Jiyong taps his fingers against the counter, bravado slowly and surely going down the sink drain as Daesung does nothing but look at him. His gaze keeps landing on his lips, before dancing up as though it was painful to look at it too long. He doesn't really feel bad, not really, but anticipation can only go so far.

He crosses the distance between them in only a couple of steps before closing his hands on his jawline and pulling him into a kiss. Jiyong scrabbles against the counter and whimpers, made tipsy from just getting to taste what's only ever been eye candy. He sinks and sags beneath Daesung's touch; his body becomes a loose doll kept upright just by the sheer desire to stay kissing Daesung's lips. It's an understandable feeling. Daesung clenches and tugs at Jiyong's shirt so the collar is pulled against his neck. Letting out a small cry of protest, Jiyong assents and lets himself be towed away, breathing hard through his nose. His tongue flicks out to lick at the gloss that's been smeared across his mouth, unable to stop himself.

Without saying anything, Daesung picks up Jiyong's legs and pushes them onto the counter, twisting Jiyong's small body so that he's facing the mirror. Daesung leans over, nuzzles his head into the junction of his shoulder and neck and slowly kisses up and down his bare, goosefleshed skin. The catches in Jiyong's breath are coming every time he pulls away, afraid that he's going to stop. Daesung wants to reassure him that he won't - if he had his druthers, he wouldn't ever stop - but that'd be a lie. He has to keep moving, and he didn't turn his hair green just for necking. He slides his hand around the sharp angle of Jiyong's hip until it finds the light dusting of hair just beneath his navel. He looks, because it's difficult enough to unbutton a squirming Jiyong from behind, he doesn't need to voluntarily be doing it blind. 

"Daesung," Jiyong groans. 

 "Jiyong," Daesung says as he unbuttons, unzips, and grasps his cock with the forthright grip of a man with a plan, for the mirrors in this random bathroom are tall and wide. Daesung would high-five himself for this idea, but he settles instead for guiding Jiyong so that he's stretched the length along the counter and lays him down. He makes a quick assessment of the spacing. Jiyong is looking up at him, curiosity taking him down to earth slightly, but Daesung kisses him so he doesn't start getting ideas about asking questions. It is not Jiyong's job to know what's happening at this point - it is, in fact, Jiyong's job to lie there, back uncomfortably braced against a couple of sinks, his cock naked and exposed. 

Daesung would have faith in Jiyong to figure out that he just gave him the best angle of his life, as he begin to kiss along his thighs, suckling small bruises into the pale, pale skin there, but he's not about to take any chances. The gloss isn't nearly as neat as it was, but it still shows, shiny and luminous, and he pulls up Jiyong's thigh so he can see the reflection of the trail in the mirror. The sharp breath of realization and small, taken-aback, "Shit," that comes from Jiyong's mouth is good. Now's a good a time as any to move onto the main event.

He's already leaking for him, and Daesung wants to descend upon it hungrily, greedily, but he doesn't. Instead, he keeps his lips together and keeps kissing him. He dips down low, just above his balls, and presses his lips there before moving up, letting the lower drag, exposing the wetness of his mouth. When he reaches the tip of his cock, he pauses and watches as the liquid there seeps and trembles when Daesung breathes on it. Unfocused in the background, Jiyong is tilting his head up and watching intently, his eyes dark with anticipation. He pauses, licks his lips, and stays still. The only motion in the room is the twitch of Jiyong's cock and the slight lift of his hips. Daesung pulls away and waits. 

Jiyong says, uncertain, "Daesung, what are you - " and pulls himself up so that he's leaning up on his elbows, in the perfect position, and Daesung swallows him down without further hesitation. 

He should really start arranging people's positioning, because apparently he's the only person who thinks about these things. Jiyong is looking straight down the barrel of the gun - so to speak - and what he can't see from straight on he can see looking at the mirror. He'll see the saliva drip out of the corner of Daesung's mouth and catch how his lips nestle against the dark, coarse hair when he takes his cock all the way in. When Daesung tilts his head to the side, he'll see his thickness held in his mouth. And as a bonus, Daesung will be able to see his expression too, without getting that headache from trying to maintain straight-on eye contact mid-blowjob. 

And what an expression it is. Jiyong's mouth is slack, his gaze is heavy lidded, and he, in summation, looks like he  _just_ realized what he was up against, but is perfectly fine with it. Daesung mentally congratulates their leader on going with the flow, and rubs his tongue against the underside of his cock as he brings him deeper into his mouth. Jiyong is somewhere between Seungri and Youngbae in forthrightness, a Goldilocks quality of "just right" that has him rhythmically lifting his hips but not so aggressively that Daesung has to take retributive measures. Daesung rubs his thumb over his hipbone just in case, though, as he increases his speed. Jiyong is tensing beneath him, making little noises of shock and pleasure, a sure sign, made extra certain by how his hand threads through Daesung's hair. 

Daesung pulls up until just his lips are tight around his tip, and hums a vibration that has Jiyong coming with a gasp, but he only has a moment to savor the taste before Jiyong's grip in his hair turns into a tug. He pulls Daesung up, bringing them in for a kiss where Jiyong's tongue demands he open his mouth and share. Daesung's mind goes completely white with surprise - but his body accedes eagerly, and he parts his lips and it's a mess between the two of them that Jiyong mewls into. Daesung's fingers desperately find his throat just in time, as he feels the bob of it as Jiyong's swallows his own come. 

When they pull apart, there's a strand of spit that's white and thick and it quivers in indecision before splitting and falling against Jiyong's chin. 

Jiyong grins. 

Daesung is many things at this moment: flabbergasted, hard, and not in control for the first time since he got into the van.

All he can really think to say is, "Three."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to personally thank Kwon Jiyong for fucking up my entire premise.


	6. Daesung/Seunghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry, sorry," Seunghyun says, and Daesung knows the look he's wearing well enough, and as sweet as it is, it doesn't fit the oeuvre, so he finds his hand in his own and strokes it to indicate his benevolent forgiveness and his goal-oriented intent to continue blowjobbing.

If this whole expedition was a trip, it would be called The SS Blowjob. And the good ship would have exactly one last port to visit - a lanky, oddball kind of port that looks at Daesung with big, imploring eyes that he can't help but soften at. 

As a metaphor, it's terrible, but as it's only purpose is to amuse Daesung, it works.

He sits down besides the older man, putting his hand on his knee and feeling it jump up against his palm. 

"Ready?" he says, simple and expectant and affirming. The other three - against stacked odds, they had returned to full mental capacity - are paying nauseatingly unsubtle attention. As Seunghyun's gaze flickers around the room, Seungri hastily looks up at the ceiling while Jiyong's reflection wipes at his chin and winks with zero sympathy. What is visible of Youngbae's face is a unflinching shade of red. Daesung clicks his tongue and leans his head against Seunghyun's shoulder, nosing gently underneath his ear.

"Time to go," he says, and he slides his hand up his thigh with single-minded purpose.

Seunghyun scrambles off the couch like a hot plate flared to life beneath him, leaving Daesung leaning on nothing before falling sideways. There's an undeserved moment of indignity of the other members snickering at him, like they hadn't just been at his mercy - but Seunghyun - lovely, lovely, yet-to-be-blown Seunghyun - just looks at him with dark, increasingly anxious eyes, with no hint of amusement around his mouth. That is more like it, and Daesung slides up off the couch and announces to the room in a bright tone that he is  _very fond of this hair color_  and  _who knows how long he'd keep it - maybe through the new year?_

Sweet, fearful silence ensues.

Daesung takes Seunghyun by the hand and raises it up to his lips before taking him into the small dressing room off of the main room. He closes the door, turning the chatter into an indistinct buzz. Seunghyun's pants crinkle as he shifts from foot to foot. There's really only one solution to that - remove the pants - and Daesung closes the distance between the two of them and runs the edge of his fingernail just above the waist. The other man  _flinches_ , and Daesung has to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

"Daesung," Seunghyun says, uncertainly somewhere between a question or a plea. Daesung hums in response, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping and doing the basic preparatory steps for a blowjob. Seunghyun's face is an awkward, shy thing in the half-light and Daesung wants nothing more than to kiss all the angles of uncertainty into smoothness. "Did you really..."

Before he can finish the thought, Daesung nods, and Seunghyun looks a particularly handsome shade of gobsmacked, like he's finally letting himself believe this is happening, and his lips start forming words as Daesung slides his hands from front to side, finding the sharp, bare curve of his hipbones. 

"Seungri...," he mumbles, voyeur levels of curious, as Daesung kisses at the corner of his mouth. 

"In the hallway. Couldn't wait."

Seunghyun lets out a small giggle.

"Sounds about right."

Daesung smiles and drags his lips across his jaw, nipping at the skin just beneath, the stubble untouched by the stylists yet. 

" _I_ couldn't wait," he corrects his assumption, and Seunghyun's hands close around him on instinct, spread wide and wanting across Daesung's back, pulling him closer. Daesung lets him, lets his head drop down to his shoulder, nuzzling at the fabric there while he hooks his fingers around the elastic band. Despite the awareness of how close they are cutting it, he's tempted to let Seunghyun retrace his steps as a meandering oral itinerary that doubles as a handy foreplay-slash-summary.

"Youngbae left," he says, next, breath catching as Daesung pushes his hips against his and presses the pair of them against the wall.

"He came," Daesung says, casual, nipping at his collarbone between words. "Seungri watched."

Seunghyun lets out a hiss, and Daesung honestly can't tell if that's from the mental picture or from his fingernails scraping at Seunghyun's inner thighs, a shortcut to leg-parting that cannot be over-recommended. His skin is soft and sensitive beneath his touch, and he wants to see how it canow be marred with fresh red lines. But Seunghyun's hands are settled at the small of his back, holding him tight, and he needs them to move up, so he can move  _down_.

It's not that he wants to rush, but he can feel his  _Seunghyun-ness_  against his thigh, an insistent poke that's only going to get insistent-ier the longer he talks, and they still have a stage. And Daesung, for all that he believes theoretically in equal teasing distribution, is in practice a little more biased to Seunghyun than the others. He slides his hand down the crease of his thigh and takes matters into his own hand. 

There's a distinct  _thunk_  as Seunghyun's head smacks against the wall, and the buzz from outside dims for a second, but Daesung is zeroed in at how the apple of his throat is bobbing up and down, and at how his lips have gone soft and parted, just exposing the wetness of his tongue and Jesus Christ, Daesung really needs to get a grip on things before this gets out of hand. No pun intended, and no literal interpretation either, because he tightens a little more, and Daesung just watches as Seunghyun squirms and his hands twitch for a second, long long enough for Daesung to drop to his knees.

He presses his mouth against the thin cloak of material that is strained by the perpendicular angle of Seunghyun's cock; he feels his hands rest gently in his hair.

"Jiyong was in the bathroom," he fills in for his sake, unwilling to let him suffer the incomplete picture. Seunghyun shivers.

Struggling mightily, Daesung resists the urge to look up and overindulge in the heady weight of Seunghyun's gaze, dark and earnest and open - but the warm pads of his thumbs press against Daesung's forehead, nulling out his struggling as they tilt his head back. He takes in the sight of Seunghyun, adorned with a fluorescent halo and just looking so damn  _invested_  that Daesung lets himself smile without any of the scheming that's colored the last few hours.

Seunghyun's hand strokes over his hair and comes to rest with light fingernails at the back of his neck. Daesung presses a kiss to the now-wet fabric and, with eager, practiced fingers, tugs down the last barrier and takes him into his mouth. He slides forward slowly, closing his eyes and letting his other senses wallow in their own vices: the press of fingers slowly massaging his much-taxed neck muscles, giving a pleasurable kind of pain; the taste of salt becoming stronger as he slides his tongue against the side of Seunghyun's cock; the slight smell of soap from when he showered before they left this morning.

All are great. But it's the noises - small, desperate as they are - that Daesung is living for. 

There's the noises coming from outside: conversation, the hiss of hair product, the squeak of doors opening and closing, the couch settling as various members take their places on it, the barely audible notifications from phones, each one serving as a reminder of how fragile their separation is. It stokes a highly inadvisable exhibitionist spark in both of them.

And then there's the noises in their own private world - the lewd, indulgent sucking Daesung gives when he pulls back to the head, the tip of his tongue finding Seunghyun's slit and spreading it apart; the half-tempered choke that it inspires; the roaring in Daesung's ears as he tugs them both to the edge until he has to pull off to keep breathing. He settles against his skin, breath puffing against the base of his cock, the hairs trembling faintly. He leans forward, he draws skin between his teeth in a gentle nibble that has Seunghyun scratching thoughtlessly at thin skin. 

He can't help, he's only human, letting the "Ow" slip out in the triangle of space between his mouth and cock.

"Sorry, sorry," Seunghyun says, and Daesung knows the look he's wearing well enough, and as sweet as it is, it doesn't fit the oeuvre, so he finds Seunghyun's hand in his own and strokes it to indicate his benevolent forgiveness and his intent to continue blowjobbing. The tension that drew white knuckles beneath his skin disappears in an instant, and Daesung kisses his way back up to the head before swallowing down again, putting all other gag reflexes to shame.

Seunghyun's touch has gone reverently fearful as he submits to the inevitable end, gently landing and lifting with each bob and duck of Daesung's head. It's like the whole world has had its edges rounded off, gone soft and pliant.

There's no accompanying noise when Seunghyun comes - it's silence that accompanies the telltale tensing of his muscles beneath Daesung's touch and the following warmth that fills his mouth.

He starts to lets out a scolding noise as he feels the other man slipping out before he's finished, but gravity is on Seunghyun's side as he withdraws his cock and kneels. Daesung swallows as Seunghyun's eyes meet his, not even considering the clear-white stains on his lips and chin before he presses forward to kiss him, fingers forgetting their earlier hesitancy as they tangle up in green, his other hand busily finding Daesung, stroking at his hard and unaddressed length devotedly.

Daesung laughs and kisses him back, because there is no god-given reason in the world not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this got longer than I thought it would, and this last chapter took longer than I thought it would! Thank you to my readers for sticking around and giving this silly premise a shot.


End file.
